


His Son

by meraxes (aristurtle)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 01:52:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aristurtle/pseuds/meraxes
Summary: “Where is your brother, little lord?” Ser Rodrik asked, “He’s late! Go fetch him!”Robb’s face turned sour as he scowled. “I don’t know where Jon is,” he muttered, “and he’s not my brother!”Ned felt his face turn red. A sudden wave of hurt came over him. He rushed down into the yard, causing the men to go into a scurry and clear his path. Approaching the boy, he knelt in front of him and held his shoulders.“What did you say, boy?” he demanded.“I said he’s not my brother,” said the child.-Ned comforts his son.





	His Son

Ned felt goosebumps on his arms under his furs as he stood in the balcony and watched his son wield the small wooden sword. Robb stood in the yard smiled broadly as Ser Rodrik handed him the blade. 

“Father, look!” he beamed up at him as he swung it around in excitement. 

Ned smiled back as he felt his throat go dry. The horrors of war haunted him still. And now here stood his boy, five years later, wielding a blade, readying himself for wars to come. 

Ned still dreamt of blood and smoke - the screams of death and the fire. He had been ten and six when he marched south with the northern lords, filled with rage and sorrow. He had cut into men, laid waste to garrisons, seen villages burnt to dust. He had lost friends and men who he had seen since they were boys. Screams of the women and children caught in the midst of the chaos still rang horribly in his ears. He wished never to see that again. It was the worst year of his life. 

“Where is your brother, little lord?” Ser Rodrik asked, “He’s late! Go fetch him!”

Robb’s face turned sour as he scowled. “I don’t know where Jon is,” he muttered, “and he’s not my brother!”

Ned felt his face turn red. A sudden wave of hurt came over him. He rushed down into the yard, causing the men to go into a scurry and clear his path. Approaching the boy, he knelt in front of him and held his shoulders.

“What did you say, boy?” he demanded.

“I said he’s not my brother,” said the child, still frowning.

“And who told you that?” Ned asked. Robb wouldn’t meet his gaze. Instead he looked at the ground. 

“The lads did,” he said in a small voice. He had sensed he was in trouble.

“The lads did?” Ned asked, “What did they say?”

He looked up to look his father in the eye. “They said he was a bastard! That his mother was a tavern wench and that he’s just pretendin’ to be a lord!”

Ned’s heart sank. He knew why Jon was missing today. “Did they say this to Jon?” he asked, “Did they bully him, Robb?” 

Robb’s gaze went back to the ground as he hung his head. Ned looked up at Ser Rodrik who had also lowered his gaze. Perhaps he knew about the teasing. Perhaps they all did and didn’t know how to defend the Lord’s bastard son. He stood up and said to the knight, “Continue with his training without Jon today.”

“Aye, m’lord,” said Ser Rodrik as he led Robb back into the yard.

“As you were,” Ned said to the men in the yard as he turned around and walked towards the west of the castle where knew he would find the boy.

 

***

 

The brown haired lad sat crouched under the weirwood. He sat fiddling with a wooden horse. Ned recognized the toy. He had carved it himself, when he was a boy. He also noticed that the child was sniffling. He had been crying. Ned felt a lump in his throat as he walked over to him.   
  
“Do you mind if I join you?” he said quietly.

Between sniffles, Jon nodded, still looking at the horse. Ned sat down next to him, sighing. He looked down at the little mop of brown hair. There was so much of her in him. Ned felt his eyes moisten.

“I like the godswood too,” Ned said, “It’s quiet and peaceful. It helps me think when I want to be alone.”

Jon wiped his nose on his hand, letting a small sob escape him. 

“Jon look at me,” Ned said. The boy looked up at him. His grey eyes were puffy and swollen. “I know what they said to you, the other boys.”

“They were sayin’ that I’m a bastard,” Jon whimpered as tears rolled down his cheeks. Ned raised a gloved hand to wipe his face. “That I haven’t got a name.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Jon,” Ned said, “People are going to say things to you. Ugly things. Hateful things. There’s no stopping them. And for that I am sorry” He put his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “But through it all, I want you to remember one thing.”

Ned turned to the boy and held his small face in his hands. Jon’s grey eyes glistened with tears but he looked at his father for comfort. Ned saw the innocence in the eyes he had known before as his sister’s and in that moment he knew. He remembered the looks on the faces of his men when he brought the child back to the war camps. The whispers on their journey back to Winterfell. Catelyn’s horror at a stranger’s child in the arms of her husband. But despite it all, there had been a sliver of light that had come from the dark war. This child whose ill-fated birth had left him in Ned’s arms. This boy who smiled and called him Father. This little lad who loved riding ponies and running after squirrels in the wolfswood. This boy who would always be ridiculed for having no name.

“You are  _ my  _ boy, Jon,” Ned said with conviction, “You have been since the day you were born. And you do have a name. A good strong name. You were named for the man who made me who I am today” Jon nodded silently.

Ned held the boy closer, looking straight into his eyes, “You are my blood. Remember that always.” With that Ned smiled. And his boy followed. 

And then he sat there for a few moments longer before the boy ran back off into the castle to train at sword and shield, in the most sacred place in Winterfell, noble seat of House Stark, with Jon Snow - his son. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was so pissed off with the show legitimising Jon and MAKING him Aegon. The whole point of Jon's parentage is that he is a bastard, but Ned raised him as his own. Jon is not Aegon. Jon is Jon and he is Ned's son. This is just a self-indulgence fic because I love Ned and Jon and wish there was more of their relationship in the books. OK rant over :P


End file.
